Next stop.......
I rang my ex to borrow back the money I gave him to fix up my bike, and he said he'd check and see how much it was, and call me back. I know exactly how much it is, but I wasn't sure how much he's spent already. He calls me back the next day, tells me he's dumped his part time girlfriend, and wants me to go and stay with him for a while. Well, thinks I, well. I don't usually go back, but he can help me get my car fixed up - he likes cars and bikes - and he lives on the way to Byron Bay, where I have to be for Splendour in the Grass coz I've already got my ticket, and I'm going.So, I said OK, I'll go and hang out there, but I want to work when I get there, I'll go when it's time to go, and he has to fix my car. I think he wants something a bit more permanent, but he'll either pack up and come with me, or he'll realise that it didn't work out the first time - he's so much younger than me, I was his first serious girl friend, he has a gambling problem that I can get hooked up in(pokies), he has no license for the next four years, and I was drinking a lot while I was there because I got really depressed.
Who knows, maybe this time we'll have a different thing happening? Either way, I'm really grateful that he's come through for me. He's one of a few people that I know I can count on to help me out if he can. We have been really good friends since we broke up, I've been there for him in times of crisis, and we do have a lot in common.
So, I know a place where I can go to from here. That is a relief. I know I'm going to Byron, but from there, I was just going to drift for a while.
I sang with the band tonight at the place where I work. It is the biggest buzz, especially when you are the barmaid, and no one really knows that you have been a singer in one of your past lives. I just blew everyone away. It's just a pity I did it so late in the night, everyone was really blind, due to the 40 minutes of free drinks that got handed round before the party started. I love doing that, it feels so damn good. Especially with a full band behind you. One of the guys there is a professional photographer and took a few photos, I told him he'd better be a master at photoshop if he expects a halfway decent shot of me out of them. Even the boss - she was drunk as a skunk - came up and threw her arms around me - at which point I get really "PERSONAL SPACE" do you mind? - but it was cool to be able to make people listen to me and take notice in a good way.
Not all attention is good attention. Like when you're trying to avoid being pulled over by the cops in case your car isn't 100% roadworthy and there's a breathalyser in the way - even when you haven't had a drink in a week so you know you'll pass. Or like when you and your new friend are at a pub - two women having a drink, late at night, already pretty pissed - and these dickheads come and sit right down at your table, without asking, and expect to talk to you. I get really direct at this point, often getting myself into trouble. I straight out tell them to go away. It's pretty clear what go away means. Why, then, do they look at you incredulously and stay there. I have had drinks thrown on me, one guy spat at me, and now I just go and find the bouncers to help out, it's much safer that way. Or when you meet someone and they stand really close to you, total invasion of personal space. Drunken hugs and kisses from guys you have served drinks to for the last year or so, just because I serve them drinks, I'm pleasant to them, I let them think they get away with stuff, they think that they have the right to invade your space.
Anyway, I'm home, and I think I might be OK for another day, or until the rush of singing wears off again. I think I become addicted to that rush. It's safer than drugs, cheaper too - sometimes you even get paid to do it.
My black eye is nearly gone now, it was bigger on Monday, but has slowly been getting purple and yellow. No one really noticed it so I didn't have to explain how I walked into a wall, yes, really.
I am hoping to keep blogging on my journey, I want to tell everyone about the beautiful place I live in called Australia. With any luck, all my future stories will be happy ones.
Who knows, maybe this time we'll have a different thing happening? Either way, I'm really grateful that he's come through for me. He's one of a few people that I know I can count on to help me out if he can. We have been really good friends since we broke up, I've been there for him in times of crisis, and we do have a lot in common.
So, I know a place where I can go to from here. That is a relief. I know I'm going to Byron, but from there, I was just going to drift for a while.
I sang with the band tonight at the place where I work. It is the biggest buzz, especially when you are the barmaid, and no one really knows that you have been a singer in one of your past lives. I just blew everyone away. It's just a pity I did it so late in the night, everyone was really blind, due to the 40 minutes of free drinks that got handed round before the party started. I love doing that, it feels so damn good. Especially with a full band behind you. One of the guys there is a professional photographer and took a few photos, I told him he'd better be a master at photoshop if he expects a halfway decent shot of me out of them. Even the boss - she was drunk as a skunk - came up and threw her arms around me - at which point I get really "PERSONAL SPACE" do you mind? - but it was cool to be able to make people listen to me and take notice in a good way.
Not all attention is good attention. Like when you're trying to avoid being pulled over by the cops in case your car isn't 100% roadworthy and there's a breathalyser in the way - even when you haven't had a drink in a week so you know you'll pass. Or like when you and your new friend are at a pub - two women having a drink, late at night, already pretty pissed - and these dickheads come and sit right down at your table, without asking, and expect to talk to you. I get really direct at this point, often getting myself into trouble. I straight out tell them to go away. It's pretty clear what go away means. Why, then, do they look at you incredulously and stay there. I have had drinks thrown on me, one guy spat at me, and now I just go and find the bouncers to help out, it's much safer that way. Or when you meet someone and they stand really close to you, total invasion of personal space. Drunken hugs and kisses from guys you have served drinks to for the last year or so, just because I serve them drinks, I'm pleasant to them, I let them think they get away with stuff, they think that they have the right to invade your space.
Anyway, I'm home, and I think I might be OK for another day, or until the rush of singing wears off again. I think I become addicted to that rush. It's safer than drugs, cheaper too - sometimes you even get paid to do it.
My black eye is nearly gone now, it was bigger on Monday, but has slowly been getting purple and yellow. No one really noticed it so I didn't have to explain how I walked into a wall, yes, really.
I am hoping to keep blogging on my journey, I want to tell everyone about the beautiful place I live in called Australia. With any luck, all my future stories will be happy ones.
posted by Movin'on at 8:16 AM
1 Comments:
...and these dickheads come and sit right down at your table, without asking, and expect to talk to you... I straight out tell them to go away.
I liked it when we told one of them to go away and his reply was: "what do you want from me?"
I wonder when "go away" became ambiguous in meaning.
Post a Comment
<< Home